


Eternal Little King

by artesiaminor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude's Name, Cuddling & Snuggling, I'm Bad At Tagging, Insecurity, Late Night Conversations, Lorenz Waxing Poetic, M/M, Nervousness, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Promises, Romantic Fluff, Secrets, Sharing a Bed, no beta we die like Glenn, not sure if mature or teen and up, slight sexual content/not really, supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artesiaminor/pseuds/artesiaminor
Summary: Lorenz doesn't need to know all the little details about Claude, for he was woven with him now, familiar beyond words. Just a glance in his direction, Lorenz can see that the burden of leading the war-effort is grieving him, even if he is so good at disguising his emotions. So, Lorenz seeks to make his leader feel better.But there is one little detail Lorenz needs to actually make his efforts sink.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	Eternal Little King

Claude's tent had become as domesticated as a tent could get during a war.

Lorenz seldom slept in his own tent, it now stood as simply a refuge for maps he takes out of Claude's hands when he tried to work too late. The bedroll was rolled out for good measure, a place to retreat to if Lorenz needed a moment, but he never actually slept there. Never actually spent personal time there, not anymore.

Rest was the only time where they could be something other than soldiers, and Claude had made it clear that he struggled with putting the soldier part of him away unless Lorenz was there to remove the armor, and so Lorenz stayed with him.

And Lorenz? Well, Lorenz struggled to rest without the sound of someone breathing easy beside him. In his own tent, he often found himself worried that he'd somehow wake up to a bloodied camp, filled with nought but death. So he didn't sleep, unless Claude put an arm around him and assured him with his booming heart in his chest.

Thankfully, no one mentioned it. No one chided them for it, or teased. Lorenz had expected it from Hilda, but she just gave a kind smile and a curt nod. People needed varying activities of comfort to get them through the hell of war. This was Lorenz and Claude's.

Over time the things of most importance to Lorenz fill the gaps of Claude's belongings: his tomes stuffed between tactical books, his journal next to Claude's maps, his tea box on the desk next to Claude's pens, his armor next to Claude's and his clothes stacked in the same bag. The most notable, however, was his Gloucester rose pin on the table next to Claude's side of the bed. Claude insisted on keeping it there at night, which Lorenz was too flustered by how earnest he asked him to protest or ask why.

Not that he'd never found out.

One night, when Lorenz couldn't sleep and went for a walk around camp, he had came back into the tent with Claude admiring it with this fingertips. Treating it as gently as one would a live flower. The green in his eyes the color of a lagoon, staring at the rose as if it were the oasis he belonged in.

That was reason enough for Lorenz to almost write home and just have one made for Claude. And wouldn't the sight of that just kill him? Claude, all donned up in his golden gear, but with a red flower pinned to his lapel.

The very idea of it made him want to collapse.

Tonight, however, was Lorenz's turn to go over Claude's belongings while he no doubt paced camp for the hundredth time. The last battle had left a lot of injuries, casualties, and was a reminder that even when one feels as though they are winning the war, they are always simultaneously losing. It was nights like these where Claude usually made it back to the tent late.

On nights like these, Lorenz was usually with him, helping him plan the next battle, serving as dutifully as he could to be his right hand man. But not tonight. They both needed time, tonight.

Lorenz had settled upon the sash upon his waist that he wore in his Barbarossa gear. Threading it through his fingers. Green with shining threaded patterns, with red white and gold tassels at the end. Lorenz wondered the significance of it, the design far too deliberate to be merely a fashion choice. Then again, most of Claude was deliberate, even if he did not initially appear to be. Even if his intentions were unknown.

It was soft like silk, but had a texture to it that allowed it to remain tied even in the throes of battle. It was still clean, Claude clearly took good care of it. There was only one stain that was visible, and it was slight. A streak dark crimson. Blood.

Lorenz didn't want to think about which injury that was from.

"Hey there."

Claude stood at the opening of their tent flap, announcing his entrance before he stepped fully inside. Lorenz blinked, a bit taken aback, before turning to smile at Claude. "What are you looking at?"

Lorenz gave a light gasp and quickly folded the sash to set it back with the rest of his gear. "Just admiring."

"Waiting for me," Claude said fondly. "Thank you."

Lorenz eyed Claude as he walked inside. The fondness was always there when Claude looked at Lorenz, that was a kind given. Even when they were livid with each other, there was always that undercurrent that Lorenz could fall into and be swept away in. However, the fondness tonight was marred by exhaustion. Though he was just dressed in his Lord's gear, it weighed down on him like armor. There was a permanent furrow between his eyebrows, a tenseness that screwed in his shoulders. There was also the fact that he was shivering, as always, he was cold.

But his voice was all soft. Whatever bitterness he was keeping contained, it was contained well. It didn't sour his voice even a little.

Lorenz stood and walked to him. They did not remark on how the other should be trying to rest, such complaints were a waste of breath. Instead, Lorenz made it clear that is what he wanted from Claude by removing his cloak while Claude took off his own gloves.

With the cloak removed, Lorenz draped it over his arm and placed a hand on Claude's cheek.

"You know, people are going to start thinking you're my vassal," Claude said, pulling the cloak from Lorenz's arm and setting it on the back of a chair.

"Or your mother," Lorenz quipped.

Claude chuckled. Grabbing Lorenz's wrist, pulling at the cuffs of Lorenz's thin night shirt. Then he pulled him into an embrace. "Aren't you freezing?"

Lorenz laughed, wrapping his arms around Claude, pressing his face into the man's turtleneck. "No, I am not. Unlike you, I am not brought to my knees by the cold."

"What does bring you to your knees?" Claude joked, turning his face towards Lorenz's, wiggling his eyebrows and giving a slanted smile.

Hitting him upside the head, Lorenz chuckled. "Cad."

"For you," Claude teased.

"Mmhmm," Lorenz said, unamused. He put his palms underneath Claude's skintight shirt, and Claude's breath left him in a whoosh. "Don't get excited now, I just don't want you sleeping in your turtleneck." The moment it was off, Claude pressed himself closer to Lorenz, the trembling turning to quaking in the brisk night air. Lorenz chuckled. "Here." Reaching behind him, Lorenz pulled a wool-lined linen shirt. Something to keep him warm. "Put this on."

He stared blankly for a moment, shirt slung over his neck, merely resting at his chest. Lorenz grabbed it and pulled it down further. "Help yourself or people really will start to believe I am your mother," Lorenz quipped.

"You found this for me?"

Lorenz snorted. "I asked to Hilda make it. I know how cold you get."

"You had Hilda make this for me?" Claude repeated dumbly, but now he was complying.

"That is what I said, is it not?" Lorenz asked, but the humor was startled away when he caught how Claude was staring at him. Wide eyed, mouth slightly open, a flush over his cheeks. "Yes, I had it made. You shake at night."

Once it was actually on him, Lorenz realized it was a little big, but it had to be warmer than the linen shirt he was used to. And as much as Lorenz liked that Claude used him as a personal heater, it did seem to simply sap the warmth from him when they were lying in bed together, so perhaps this would produce more of an equilibrium.

Brushing the shirt down, trying to get it to lay evenly on Claude's shoulders, Lorenz admired the handiwork. Catching his chin with his fingertips, Lorenz leaned down and kissed Claude on the forehead. "There. Hopefully that's better."

"Lorenz."

The way he said Lorenz's name was frantic, breathless. The way he stared at Lorenz was even more electrified. He reached his arms around Lorenz's waist and buried his head into his chest.

Lorenz was taken aback. "Was this not alright?" It was hard to believe that _this_ was pushing personal boundaries when the two slept in the same bed every night.

"Yes. No. The way you phrased that, you laying one of your traps." Claude let out a strained chuckle. Lorenz wasn't exactly following, but put his hands around Claude all the same and stroked his hair. Passed his own warmth through the thick new shirt Claude adorned, trying to get his body to a comfortable temperature. "It's fine. This is..." He fisted his hands into Lorenz's own shirt, hot air breathing onto Lorenz's chest. "I don't think I deserve this."

Lorenz frowned. "Oh hush."

"I just... I don't know what to say."

Tilting his head to inspect Claude, he found nothing visible that he could pick at, nothing that would help Claude unfurl his frustrations. Instead he scraped his nails across Claude's temples, bringing his hands to his shoulders and giving them a light squeeze. He continued observing Claude, however, and Claude continued observing him.

Finally, Lorenz's mouth quirked up into a smile. "I think you deserve it."

He felt the hitch in Claude's chest. Usually, Lorenz wanted Claude to just take the kindness. He was unused to it, and Lorenz did not like that he got so uncomfortable with Lorenz's openness to their relationship. This time, though, he offered to soften the words. "And I certainly don't believe you are required to be cold when there are perfectly good remedies at our fingertips." 

That made him chuckle.

They breathed for a moment, just taking in the silence of finally being alone. This was one of those nights where Claude was surprisingly forward with his emotions, though he was withholding the _why_ he was having them. Usually Lorenz had to pick through furrowed eyebrows, strained laughs, and his constant fidgeting to finally pin him down and get him to speak as to what was plaguing him. Lorenz wasn't sure if it was a good sign or a bad sign that such activities weren't necessary tonight.

"Let's get ready for bed," Claude said. The wave of exhaustion cresting and consuming them both.

Lorenz cleaned himself up a bit, making sure that he was entering their cot as pristine as one could be when surrounded by soil and earth. Claude did the same, however, his thoughts tended to migrate back to the shirt now on his back. Whenever he did, he'd play with the edges and then look up at Lorenz as though he was some sort of mythical creature.

After a few more items were organized and Lorenz caught him doing it once again, he grabbed Claude's hand.

"Come on, then."

Lorenz pulled the blanket back and slid across the cot, never letting go of Claude as he did the same. He pulled up the blankets to that more of them were on Claude. They faced each other, and Lorenz could see from Claude's expression that despite his overwhelming drowsiness, he would not be falling asleep.

"What's wrong?"

"Just thinking."

Lorenz snorted. "That usually ends up being a problem with you." He began rubbing firm circles in the palm of Claude's calloused hand. "Would you care to share?"

"It's nothing that can be dealt with. Not really," Claude said. It was a dismissive tone that might work on himself during the day, but at night where things always ruminated better, he just looked resigned.

Lorenz moved his thumb up to Claude's wrist, ghosting his thumb over the vulnerability there. "Share anyway."

A deep breath and a bone-creaking exhale, a heavy wyvern's breath coming out of Claude himself. His gaze flickered about the tent, before his gaze finally caught on Lorenz's. "We have a lot of casualties in our infirmary."

"We do." There was no denying that the last battle had taken its toll.

"I hate this excessive bloodshed," Claude said. "If we could just host a big feast and have everyone talk, maybe we would be avle to avoid it." It was a joke, but Lorenz knew Claude half-wished it were true.

He snorted. "How diplomatic and fantastically unrealistic." Then Lorenz squeezed Claude's hand, trying to take even breaths so that perhaps Claude wouldn't be holding his in so often. "You're doing what you think is best. It's proving to work, but at a cost, as we knew it would. You're trying to work in this war with the least amount of bloodshed possible, that's admirable. But we can't avoid it all."

"I know. Doesn't make me like it any better."

"Well, I think it shows great benevolence that you find yourself so concerned. Do you think Edelgard is so concerned? Dimitri? You're the only Lord who appears to have a firm grip on sanity. That provides us all with great comfort, you know. At this point, it's all we can ask for."

"Is it?" Claude's hand slipped away and he brought the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Everyone dying for my ambitions? Placing all their faith in me? I don't know if I'd be able to do it if I were in their position."

Lorenz placed his head in his palm and watched Claude intently. "Which is why you are not. You are the leader and we are your subordinates."

"I don't like thinking of you all as subordinates. We're in this together."

"I know you think that, but we are still your subordinates."

"But there's so much you don't know about me."

That made Lorenz chuckle, but Claude didn't appear to find it so funny. "We don't need to know everything about you. It wouldn't be very you if we knew everything about you. But some of us know you better than you think. Understand your dreams better than you know."

A shriveled up noise drew itself out of Claude's chest, and he seethed through his teeth. "I don't know if it's enough. Those people in the tents? They barely know what my goals are, and I don't even know if I can make them happen _if_ we win. It could all be for nothing. Most of these people, what are they supposed to go on? They don't even know who I am.” 

Lorenz furrowed his eyebrows at that. “Stop that. You have given everyone a cause worth fighting for. And as to not knowing who you are, I beg to differ.” Lorenz snorted. “You have been, and always will be, Claude.”

Claude barked a laugh at that. “That’s not even my real _name_.” 

The air was taken from his lungs, like he’d been punched. Lorenz would wheeze, but he couldn’t bring himself to even breathe. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Claude.

“Excuse me?” 

The look on Claude’s face mirrored his own shock. As if he couldn’t believe what he’d said. If he tried to brush it off as a joke, Lorenz would strangle him. 

Thankfully, he didn’t. 

"That was not how I was going to tell you. I have thought through how I was going to tell you. Think about it a lot, in here,” he said. Claude's voice was all quiet, almost a murmur, trying to soothe. “It was going to be a much more...” He made a gesture with his arm, expounding as to _more_ , but ended up merely clearing his throat and dropping everything. “Tailored conversation.” 

Anger simmered at the bottom of Lorenz’s heart. Preparing to explode. This would be something he could explode over. This could be one of those — albeit few — arguments he could start with Claude and know he’d win, because he had every right to be upset from the beginning and Claude knew it. It usually had to do with his blatant impropriety or secret-keeping, but _this_?

This was important. 

The anger cooled as swiftly as it had begun to boil. Lorenz was correct, it _was_ important. That meant it was not one of Claude's stupid little schemes that he did to make everyone think he was a man of mystery. Lorenz knew the reasons why one changed their name, he should hardly have been surprised that Claude had, considering the political nightmare the man had stepped into when he was only a boy. 

_Seiros_ , Lorenz had been told by his father to spy on him from the beginning, too. Of course Claude would take such precautions. Claude’s name already sparked so much controversy with just the _von Riegan_ attached. To take some heat off, whoever sent him to Garreg Mach likely suggested he have a name that would blend with everything else. It made sense. 

The strength in his arms began to falter when the rush of rage wasn't propelling himself to keep them up. He scooted so he could sit up comfortably, and placed his hands together over his knee.

The air in his lungs had quickly gone from fire to snow. Lorenz wasn’t angry at him at all. Just a bit sad that Claude felt the need to do that. Just a bit sad that he _had_ needed to do that. He’d suffered enough hate as it was at the Academy. 

Claude was waiting patiently, his green eyes glowing, waiting for what he believed to be Lorenz’s inevitable wrath. Lucky for him, tonight was a night he would be free of it. At least for now. 

“Well,” Lorenz finally said, breathing out all of his tension he’d gathered in between his shoulders. “May I ask what it is?”

The man’s eyebrow climbed up, his mouth gaping a little. “That’s it?” The chuckle he gave was of skepticism, nerves, no humor. “You’re not going to give me a lecture? Tell me how wrong I was? How I should —“

“Claude,” the impact of saying his name that was not his name was not lost upon Lorenz, but he had nothing else, yet. If he ever would. “As one of the people who, at the time of it, delighted in the fact I was tasked to snoop on you, I can hardly admonish you. You protected yourself.” Lorenz’s heart fell. Claude had a lot of practices he did to protect himself. Most of them were things that were never a threat from Lorenz — checking his food before he ate, keeping his back to the wall, counting the exits — but this secret was done specifically for the type of person Lorenz had been. “If only you hadn’t needed to, but that was the climate. I simply wish you hadn’t felt the need to keep it up this long.”

Claude relaxed, but his eyes were swimming with some new expression. A small smile curled the corners of his lips. He flopped back down on the bed haphazardly and stared up at the tent as though it was prompting him with answers. “I’ve gone by Claude for so long, I kind of forgot I had another name. It’s not that Claude also doesn’t feel like… me. It’s just. I don’t know, my old self seems so different from the person I am now."

"You've grown, that doesn't mean you've been reborn, forced to abandon all that you once were." Lorenz offered, unsure how to tread in Claude's personal dilemma. "With how you've always fought for your ambitions, I imagine the dream you shared was the same."

Claude blinked, mouth open. "It was."

The way Claude spoke with such reverence, such nostalgia, Lorenz was brought to silence. He couldn’t tell if Claude was trying to skirt telling him. If he was, Lorenz would drop the matter entirely. He had taken so much pride in his own name once upon a time, he could only imagine how personal Claude’s name felt to him. 

“You may have changed over the years, Claude, but your ambition is something I imagine you had the moment you were placed in your cradle.” 

At that, Claude gave a soft smile. He turned his face to look at Lorenz, his fingers drifting to his nightshirt, pinching the fabric together and sliding down. His gaze drifted downward as he thought, as he often did, endlessly tinkering with something in his head.

“It’s Khalid. My name.” 

The room stilled. It’s not as thought he confession came as a surprise, and yet, somehow, it had surprised Lorenz. This was not simply a secret, like the ones his leader often traded. This was something precious. Priceless. Once given, one should never relieve themselves of it, lest they are a fool. 

Lorenz would cherish it. 

Lorenz took a deep breath, almost inhaling the name and letting it play on his tongue. “Khalid,” Lorenz repeated. The name was smooth, beautiful, and very foreign to Fódlan. It was no surprise why he changed it. Though it was a shame, it suited Claude so well. “What does it mean?”

“Ah.” Claude — Khalid? Lorenz wasn’t sure how he should address him in his mind — seemed to be going through wave after wave of shock. This one, though, appeared more delightful. "I believe it means something like eternal. Or immortal? Something endless.” 

“That suits you,” Lorenz remarked. “Much more befitting of you than Claude, I must say. Claude can mean ‘lame’ or ‘stutter’. I’ve never heard you stutter once in my life.” 

Another bark of laughter, this one filled with much more mirth. Much more like the man Lorenz knew. Full of life and heart. He hadn’t heard such a laugh in a while. 

“I don’t know about that. I’m sure I’ve slipped up somewhere.” Then he got a lopsided smile on his face, and his gaze glittered. “You really think it suits me?”

The softness of his tone, the fragility of it. _Oh_ , Lorenz’s heart imploded. It was a rare sight, to see his leader so sensitive, even laid next to each other as they were. Lorenz knew he needed to handle this with care. 

“I do,” he said in a whisper. Hand brushing back the hair at his temples, coasting along his hairline. "I think the name is quite handsome, actually. Khalid is a pretty name, fitting for a pretty man."

“You think I’m pretty?” Claude teased, trying to lift his own spirits. His teeth shone bright. 

Lorenz flicked him between his eyebrows. “Now you’re fishing for compliments.” 

With a low rumbling chuckle and a beaming smile, Claude relaxed into their stiff pillows, closing his eyes. Lorenz was happy to see him distracted.

Lorenz continued, filling the silence with more distracting nonsense. It was more delightful than thinking of their battles ahead. “Eternal little king. That is what von Riegan means, if you didn’t know: Little king. When you arrived at Garreg Mach, that is what it seemed like I was greeting. For such a scrawny thing, you were certainly far larger than life.”

“And I _instantly_ pissed you off.”

Now it was Lorenz’s turn to laugh. “Though I would not use such language, yes. Yes you did. Still do, might I add.” 

Claude opened his eyes and snorted. “Oh, I know. Relish in it.” 

“I know you do.” The two of them snickered, laughing and inching closer and closer to each other on their small cot. 

Then Lorenz felt rather somber. He should ask Claude what wanted. That was the right thing to do in these situations, was it not? “Would you like me to call you Khalid?” he asked. “In private, I imagine.” 

A deep breath accompanied by wandering eyes as though somewhere in the tent had the answer. 

“Admittedly, I hadn’t thought of that.” There was a hint of pain flickering across his face, and Lorenz felt the pinch in himself as well. Claude tried to smother it with his hand. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it once more. But then, then I think it’s better to let it rest for a little while longer.” 

Claude’s gaze started darting around, like his thoughts were scattered on the floor in front of them. Lorenz kept himself silent, believing it best to wait for Claude to pick them up himself this time. 

“I’ve been Claude for so long, and I’ve identified it to what I’m doing here. I think if you start calling me…” he glazed over his own name, as if just saying it would bring his precarious stability to shatter. “I will either get impatient or get too wrapped up in the past. Either way, it’s counterproductive. I need to be here, for now. If you understand.”

“Of course I understand. It is yours, I will do whatever you’d like with it.” 

Claude rubbed his palms together, trying to create a little warmth in his big hands. Then he laced his hands together and rolled onto his back, tipping his head to look up at the ceiling of their humble tent. “But someday. Someday, I think I’d really like it, if you called me it all the time." 

He had said he wanted it once more, yes? Lorenz reached out to place a hand on him. “Well then, Khalid. I’ll wait for the day.” 

Claude turned to look at him. It was quite sweet, how relaxed Claude looked in that moment. A burden lifted, a smile bright on his face. 

Then the relaxation faltered, and he closed his eyes, trying to focus. There was a scrunch to his eyebrows. Everything hitched. He looked upset. 

Lorenz thought to test the waters. “Claude?”

A small, dry, singular laugh-like sound fell out of his mouth. Laugh-like, because it was humorless. Very unlike the man Lorenz knew. 

This was what was making Lorenz’s stomach swirl. For as much as Claude dreamed, he never seemed to ever allow himself to actually _want_. To ask, or to receive. Allergic to it, so it seemed. Claude seemingly lacked the ability to be truly selfish. Even his biggest aspiration was for the world surrounding. Not just him. 

Lorenz shifted, pulling himself over the man. For the better anyways, Claude was likely still cold. He dragged a pale hand down his chest, let the other one curl into his hair. Claude leaned into the touch, allowing himself to become flush. 

Lorenz lowered himself and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Maybe once more, hm?” he whispered. 

He gave a slight nod, but Claude’s shoulders collapsed. As if the acknowledgment of needing anything was crushing him. He wouldn’t open his eyes, but he reached out and placed his hands on Lorenz’s torso like he needed an anchor. 

“Darling. Here.” He passed a hand through Claude’s hair and tried to get him to calm down. To breathe. To take in the moment, instead of feeling such panic. “Shh, now.” He smudged a kiss to his temple, trying to be light in his touch but emphatic. Even indulgent. “Look at me.” 

Claude obeyed. Bright irises under half-lidded eyes, watching with a feverish curiousness.

What a rare compilation of moments this was. Claude was quiet. Obedient. Nervous. A miraculous sight for the trickster, the “Master Tactician”. Lorenz often likened Claude to a deity. In Lorenz’s most secreted sacrilegious thoughts he found that even in some of the Goddess' best stories she did not have as smooth a countenance, as confident a demeanor, as brilliant a smile, as Claude. Claude was blinding. 

He still was, this way, but it was different. He was a man. Here he was Lorenz’s mortal God; eternal little king. 

“You are so very adored. You know that, right?” Lorenz placed his hands upon Claude’s shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. Claude watched him, breath shuddering ever so slightly, tremors alight under Lorenz’s palms. 

“I know.” Claude breathed Lorenz in, grabbing him by the wrists and pulling him closer, smoothing his arms around his torso and pressing his face into the crook of Lorenz’s neck. “I know,” he whispered. He pulled away, and then put the purple curtain of Lorenz’s hair back into its proper place: hooked behind his ear. 

Lorenz smiled, then took his hand and laced it with his own. 

With his free hand, Lorenz traced Claude’s features. Starting along his hairline, down to circle around his ear, curving from the ridge of his jaw to his throat. 

“I cherish you. Even when you are, to quote, _pissing me off._ You have my whole heart, and you take good care of it. You take good care of everything. I think it's time I take care of you.”

“You don’t need to —“

Pale white fingers danced across Claude’s lips, the contrast of his warm tone to his snow-like one stark as his hand enclosed around his mouth. “One night. You deserve one night.” Lorenz traced the piercing on Claude’s ear and he tipped his head, inspecting it. Only Claude could make being bejeweled look so strong. 

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss just above it and began whispering in his ear. 

“You lied when you said you’d forgotten.” Lorenz started. Nothing about the tone was accusatory. It was an observation, perhaps one that not even Claude was aware of. “Something isn’t forgotten just because it isn’t thought of. It just means it’s been put away. And you, you are very good at keeping things safe and secure.” Lorenz spoke soft and low. He gave Claude's hand a squeeze, and his expression changed. The nerves no longer hunting down his features, now he was curious, bemused by intrigue.“Now it’s just spent so long in a box in your head that it hasn’t breathed fresh air in a while, and it just hurts a little to hear it in the open air. And I imagine it’s rather frightening, for the outside, it, it, it can be terribly scary. And I know you’ve bared the brunt of that so many times. Too many times.” 

Lorenz’s emotions were starting to run away from him. Thoughts traversing to the scars he found on Claude’s neck, his back, his stomach. Scars from assassin’s knives and spies who tried to kill him when he was just a child. Things that made Lorenz so unconsolably angry that he didn’t know what to do.

It was Lorenz’s intention to maintain calm, but perhaps he’d kept his own little secrets in his own little boxes too long. Now he was expounding upon them at a rapid rate, because how could he not, with Claude so yielding and yearning.

Keeping one hand in his grip, he placed the other over Claude’s heart. “I don’t think I could ever convey how intensely I feel the need to protect you.” Claude’s eyebrows snapped up, and his mouth was a bit agape. He was breathing a bit heavy, not looking panicked, but a bit bewildered as Lorenz spoke. 

Lorenz in response laughed a bit nervously. “Not because you need it. You don’t need my protection in the slightest, but you have it. In any and every endeavor, you’ll always have it.” He smudged a kiss into the palm of his hand, into the vulnerably thin skin of his wrist.

“Oh fuck, Lorenz —“ 

"I want to keep you safe. I want to keep you safe and _mine_ , Khalid.” 

In an instant Claude had his arms around Lorenz, one on his hip and the other Lorenz’s shoulder, and in a singular sweep he flipped the two of them over. Claude now looking down upon Lorenz, hands pressed firmly on his ribs, Lorenz being pushed into the pillows. 

If this were one of Lorenz’s passionate romantic novels that he’d scoured and stashed as a teenager, Claude probably would have kissed Lorenz with some sort of animalistic ferocity and bedded him in a similar endeavor. There would have been no expressions to absorb for their tongues would have been tied, and everything would have been sweaty palms and heavy-thudding hearts. There would have been no break, no hesitation, no stillness. 

It was those moments of pause that Lorenz found himself adoring, though. 

He watched, patient, as Claude weeded through exactly what he was trying to do. His gaze sparked, as though realizing that his actions had been a bit urgent.

“Sorry.”

“No need to be.” There was no fear or shame in being handled by Claude, even if it was done a bit crassly. 

The spark made its way to Claude's lips and he blew a laugh through his teeth. Lorenz reached up and put a palm on his chin, his other hand on the soft shirt against Claude's ribs. He felt Claude's laugh underneath his hand. “You’re going to be the death of me, Gloucester,” he breathed out. 

"Well, then it will be a sweet death, I hope."

Claude laughed, gleeful, if not a bit manic. "Swifter and subtler than any poison, I'm finding out." He caught Lorenz's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Lorenz didn't usually enjoy being likened to Claude's poisons, but with a look on his face like that, he couldn't bring it in him to complain. "Was that alright?"

"It was perfect." Claude murmured, pressing kisses to Lorenz's hand, across his knuckles, to his fingertips. "It was more... More than I ever thought I'd have."

Claude's tone was dulcet but his posture was tense, wound up like a coil.

“How are you handling that?” Lorenz asked, his free hand lowering and tapping along Claude's leg.

“I’m fine.” Claude huffed, starting to relax into their new position. “Guess I got a bit excited.” 

“Overwhelmed perhaps?”

Claude hummed, turning over Lorenz’s hand in his as though he were admiring him. “I just wasn’t expecting all of that.” He moved Lorenz’s hand to his shoulder and grazed his hand down Lorenz’s arm, tracing down his side to put his hands back on his ribcage. Lorenz sucked in a breath and Claude smiled. "Should’ve known that even in war you are still able to _wax poetic_."

“I must say I’m flattered, if you found that to be poetry. I thought I was just getting ahead of myself, rambling my thoughts like there was no tomorrow."

“Shit, Lorenz —“

“Language.” Lorenz flicked his side. “I’ve let you get away with quite a lot tonight, but goodness, you’ve been swearing like a sailor.”

That brought a smirk to Claude’s lips. “You like it. I know you do. Who knew Lorenz Hellman Gloucester would be so attracted to the _uncouth_?” he teased. 

“Oh hardly.” Lorenz batted that thought away. "I am attracted to you, and sadly you come with a side of boorishness just to pester me."

“And you like being pestered.”

“By you…” Lorenz admitted, “ _some_ times.” 

He smiled up at Claude, waited for a moment just to revel in the weight of his hands being on him, on Claude knelt around him as he was. 

“Damn, Lorenz,” Claude said. The glint in his eyes telling Lorenz he knew exactly what he was doing when he swore yet again. The mischief swirled into something earnest. "I can’t keep up with that. With you. Not tonight.” He let out a lovesick sigh. "Usually I can go round after round. Usually I _win_.”

Claude got a wicked look on his face, all-knowing that his words were going to earn him the light slap Lorenz patted on his cheek. Claude laughed. 

“You do not,” Lorenz said. 

“Whatever you say." Then he swallowed harshly and Lorenz’s eyebrows skewed together. “Thank you.”

“It’s not something you need to thank me for. Whenever you wish to hear it, you will. I'm happy to."

“Thank you anyway.” Claude smoothed the pads of his fingers across the collar of Lorenz’s tunic. The fabric was thin, soft, and a little large on Lorenz so Claude could easily dip his fingers into the shirt to touch the expanse of skin on his arms, his chest, his back. 

Then Claude leaned down and kissed him. Slow, smoothing his hands over Lorenz’s shoulders and dragging his thumbs across his collarbones. Tongues twisting, not with ferocity, but languid and sweet. Lorenz traced his fingertips up and down Claude’s side, down his back, skittering across the nape of his neck. 

“I don’t have everything together right now, but consider this not settled.” Claude kissed Lorenz’s throat, at the juncture of his jaw and his neck. Lorenz sighed, scraping his nails into Claude’s hair. 

Another kiss, Claude curled himself over the top of Lorenz as if he were shielding him from the world, and doting so much attention there was no way anything else but the man could come to Lorenz’s mind. Claude had the audacity to employ his endless fervor _now_. 

“It’s not about keeping count,” Lorenz huffed. 

“No.” Claude agreed. Lorenz could hear the _but_ that was coming from over the hill and beyond the horizon. “But, it is a little. I want to give you what you’ve given me, I just can’t think of how yet. So, this matter? Not settled.” Claude’s voice was firm, urgent, much more like when they were going back and forth in their banter. 

A grin cut across Lorenz’s face. “Mm, I don’t know. If you insist on keeping score as you do, I think I’m going to consider tonight a _win_ on my part.” Lorenz said. He kissed up into Claude’s mouth and pulled him down, hands fisting in Claude’s warm shirt. 

Claude wrapped his arms around him and cupped the back of his head, tilting him backwards and delving down. He made this sort of humming noise in his throat, tingling Lorenz’s lips. He hated to admit it, but he loved when he did that. Claude knew it too. “Think I can make it a draw?”

That made Lorenz laugh. “You can certainly try. But it will be a complete loss if we don't get enough sleep," Lorenz chided.

"I'll have to think quickly then," he murmured.

"Well..." Lorenz pulled him closer and wrapped him in an embrace. "You are good at that."

**Author's Note:**

> Changed it up with some Claude and Lorenz! I actually quite like the idea of these two being mischievous friends to mutual adoration. Lorenz always did seem a little jealous of him, and Claude does seem to delight in making him upset. Wanted something after the two finally figured out a good balance. 
> 
> I may go back and make some edits later, but I wanted to accomplish something this quarantine as this fic has been bouncing around for a while in my docs. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed!


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